Holding Your Tongue
by Sonya Omun
Summary: When Midvalley oversteps his boundaries, failing to control his tongue, Legato decides to do it for him. Rated M. One-shot.


Warning: This story is rated mature for non-consensual sex acts.

**HOLDING YOUR TONGUE**

'You have something on your face.'

One golden-coloured eye was hidden from view by azure locks of hair, the other lazily trailing up to settle on Midvalley's face at the man's words. Without reply, Legato refocussed on the plate before him, ignoring the napkin that Midvalley held extended towards him. A swipe of his tongue dislodged the piece of steak clinging to the corner of his mouth before he resumed eating at a steady pace.

The night's hour had passed from late into early, and the other Gung-Ho Guns had since retired to their rooms. Legato and Midvalley remained. The former was too preoccupied with eating for such a thing as rest, and the latter was, naturally, entertaining female company. Had it not been for the measures of wine that fuelled his morbid curiosity towards the quiet psychic, Midvalley would have taken the hint when he was ignored. Undaunted by the silence, he slipped the napkin across the table, leaving it by Legato's elbow.

'You certainly enjoy a good meal, Legato-sama.' Receiving no blatant discouragement for speaking, he ventured to add: 'Though it would probably be even more enjoyable when imbibed at leisure...' The musician's eyes tracked Legato's fork moving up and down, continuously readying the next bite while Legato still chewed.

Legato knew what the man would suggest before he opened his mouth to speak, sensing the idea form in the addled mind of the Gung-Ho Gun. 'If you don't mind me saying; sometimes eating can be a way of dealing with frustrations. Wouldn't you agree, Legato-sama?' With a wave of his hand, Midvalley gestured towards the two women that still occupied the couch he had vacated to approach Legato. 'There are so many eager, and beautiful women that would be more than willing to aide you in alleviating some of those feelings.'

Midvalley had an expensive taste in women. Even Legato, with his reclusive ways, was aware of this. To their credit, the women's facial expressions hid their apprehension well, but they could not hope to keep anything from Legato. He could sense the spark of fear within them that set their barren minds quickly aflame. Legato's upper lip curled at the aggressively prurient acts their thoughts lingered on with swelling anxiety.

The quirk of Midvalley's lips was conspiratorial when he shuffled a step closer, standing by Legato's shoulder. There was still enough of a respectful, wary, distance between them, but Legato was already aware of the scent of sour wine on the man's breath.

'Of course, one as powerful, and, frankly, handsome as yourself can simply have his pick.' With his insight in the man's mind, Legato knew Midvalley's smooth tone was the same he used to coax an insecure maiden into his bed. 'Perhaps you would find male company more pleasing, Legato-sama.'

Silverware stilled in the action of cutting the tender slab of meat on Legato's plate, his attention instead incredulously focussed on the thoughts coalescing in the alcohol-murky depths of Midvalley's mind.

'If you give me some time, it shouldn't be too much trouble to find someone that looks like Knives-sama, and...'

'_Enough!' _The clatter of cutlery falling on porcelain underscored the vehemently hissed order. Whereas Legato had observed Midvalley with bored detachment before, his eyes were now widened, swirling with his mad devotion.

'Are you implying I need to indulge myself in the fantasy of Knives-sama dirtying himself with something beneath him?' Legato's voice was a rumble, the fires of loyalty heating his words. 'Our master is something far exalted above mere humans. I know my place – the place of _all _humans!'

Midvalley raised his palms in a weakly placatory fashion. 'I wasn't actually referring to Knives-sama. Please understand...'

With disconcerting abruptness, Legato's features calmed again, emotions slipping away as he narrowed his eyes to regard Midvalley for several long moments. 'However, you and I are of the same, lowly species. There's no way for us to contaminate each other further with our humanity.'

Legato's psychic threads ensnared Midvalley's head, holding it fast, just as the impulse to get away formed in the musician's mind. Midvalley's body twisted awkwardly, trying to flee even as his head remained unnaturally immobile. On instinct, Midvalley's hands whipped through the air around his face, swiping at invisible bonds.

'W-What are you doing?' he grunted through gritted teeth. With remarkable alacrity, Midvalley's thoughts shed the taint of inebriation, adrenaline slicing through his bloodstream, and sharpening his focus. All the better, Legato mused, for it would allow him to impart his lesson on a clear mind, ensuring it would not need to be repeated.

Not deigning to answer the question, Legato reeled in the mental threads. As Midvalley stumbled forward, huffing in his efforts to resist, Legato casually turned his chair to face the man. It only required a simple jerk of his strings to have Midvalley crashing to his knees before him. With an ominous whisper of shifting cloth, Legato parted his thighs.

'Wait-! Legato-sa- ah-! Ah!' Midvalley's rushed words dissolved into strained gasps, cut off as Legato's mental powers forced the musician to pry apart his jaws. Lips that could so skilfully play a saxophone now quaked violently, stretched over Midvalley's teeth as his human maw was stretched open wide. His eyes bulged with horror, spread open to their full extent, just like his mouth.

Whimpering softly, the two women huddled together in the far corner of the couch, distancing themselves as much as they could from Legato and the Gung-Ho Gun. Legato paid them no heed. His gaze was on the Hornfreak's face, taking in the other's distress with approval. Midvalley deserved far worse for his blasphemous implications.

To even _think _about Knives-sama in such a way was unacceptable, but even more so; Legato felt the need to punish Midvalley for the profane truth behind some of his thoughts. Not all of his anger was the righteous outrage of one loyal to Knives-sama. Legato was angry at the heat that had flickered to life in the deepest pit of his stomach. The humanity behind the desires that stirred at the apex of his thighs disgusted Legato. As though a telepath himself, Midvalley had conjured thoughts and images in Legato's head that a devoted servant to Knives-sama should not even contemplate. A familiar hate roiled through Legato's insides. Hate for all that was human. Hate for all that he was – for what _Midvalley_ was...

Shiny drops of sweat that had collected on Midvalley's forehead began to bead down his face when Legato's belt and pants unfastened on their own accord. Seated comfortably with one arm resting on the table besides him, Legato's face remained an impassive mask when the folds of his pants pulled back without being touched. Legato remained unmoving as he bared himself, unreadable face regarding Midvalley throughout. Body twitching, contorting in the effort to regain control of the muscles in his neck, Midvalley was dragged closer.

Blunt fingernails clamped down on the insides of Legato's thighs, the black-haired man forced between his knees. Despite the struggle, Legato could feel defeat eat away at Midvalley's thoughts, growing, multiplying like a virus. In a moment of cruelty, Legato stilled. The pause lasted just long enough for Midvalley to cast up his eyes, revealing his glimmer of hope for leniency.

It barely required a thought on Legato's part in order for Midvalley to roughly push his mouth down onto the telepath's hardening flesh. Midvalley's open-mouthed wail of horror was abruptly cut short, stifled by a harsh coughing fit. Disregarding the other's gagging sounds, Legato sat calmly, still not moving from his comfortable pose while Midvalley was forced to bring his head down again and again.

A small pluck of an invisible thread made Midvalley strain his tongue forward, lodging Legato more firmly in his throat. Midvalley's hands fruitlessly scrabbled at Legato's clothed hips, his body tossing to the side with the urge to break free, but his head remaining firmly in the other's psychic grip. Embedded fully in the Hornfreak's mouth, Legato could feel the quaking of straining muscles rattle through the man's form, to the very tip of his tongue.

Midvalley wrenched up one of his legs, planting his foot in the attempt to drag himself away from Legato. Thin lips curled into an empty smile at the pitiable attempts, and in response, Legato seized control of the Hornfreak's hands. Shaking with their desperate desire to disobey, Midvalley's hands landed on Legato's hips. With the psychic's hold on the man's body, Midvalley was forced to use his grip on Legato's hips to ram his head down more forcefully. The strangled sounds of the musician intensified, and Legato could feel that moist heat reverberate around his skin as Midvalley screamed, every raw sound breaking off into vicious dry heaves.

It was ugly. Tears ceaselessly streamed from Midvalley's eyes as he choked. His face was darkening, lack of oxygen deepening the blush born from fury and humiliation to unhealthy levels. Air frantically wheezed in and out of Midvalley's nostrils, his exhales carrying mucus that coated his upper lip, dripping further down to add to the slickness of Legato's length. With every violent bob of the man's skull, the frothing strings of saliva that dangled form Midvalley's chin swayed with obscene merriment.

It was exactly as it should be. Legato unblinkingly stared at everything that was loathsome about humanity. He forcibly reminded himself of his own, wretched nature as he debased himself to one of mankind's most primal acts. The pleasure undulating in his loins was a shameful one, and Legato would not allow himself to forget this.

Midvalley's movements were diminishing. Muffled shouts of outrage were flagging into panted whimpers. Only occasionally did his back arch or sink in the futile hope to garner more distance. Every time Midvalley slammed himself down on Legato's flesh, spasms wracked his hacking body, lips slowly turning blue.

Only in the final moments did Legato touch Midvalley, the springs of pleasure coiled so tight between his thighs that it was nearly painful. His fingers twisted into the man's hair, roughly yanking ebony locks loose where they were tied back in a pony tail. Sheathing himself one final time, as deep as he possibly could, he held. A soft sigh was the only sound that escaped Legato as he climaxed, eyes falling half mast, and his head partially tipping back. Midvalley weakly groaned, a whine of despair, fresh fluid spilling from his eyes as Legato's fluid dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

With a final shove of the mental threads, Legato relinquished his hold on Midvalley. The musician crumpled backwards, gasping for breath. When Legato rose, garments again in place as though nothing had transpired, Midvalley didn't seem to notice. Staring at a spot on the ceiling with unseeing eyes, Midvalley struggled to control his ragged intakes of air, form shuddering from head to toe.

The longer he looked at the human, the more Legato's residual pleasure receded, its sweetness consumed by the bile of mortal reality. Legato was suddenly very aware of the greasy sensation Midvalley's sweat-damp hair had left on his hand. Spotting the previously ignored napkin that still rested on the corner of the table, he took the time to wipe his fingers clean.

'You have something on your face,' Legato drawled in a bored voice, dropping the napkin on Midvalley's still-panting chest before calmly strolling away.

**END**

Author's Note: Thank you very much for your time! Comments and constructive criticism are always appreciated.


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